


Cigarettes & Feelings

by art3mismh



Series: dnf oneshots [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Cigarettes, Falling In Love, Fluff, George is colourblind, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, No Angst, No Smut, Oneshot, Smoking, Songfic, no beta we die like george in manhunt, they both live in the uk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29558841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/art3mismh/pseuds/art3mismh
Summary: Clay has never minded being alone. He was happy to move through life by himself, until a chance encounter on a park bench leads to him meeting someone that he can't bear to live without.*Inspired by the song 'Cigarettes & Feelings' by The Haunt!*
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: dnf oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182257
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Cigarettes & Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone! 
> 
> if you haven't heard it already, i recommend listening to the song this fic is based on (Cigarettes & Feelings by The Haunt), but you definitely don't have to have heard it to understand the plot. as always, if dream or george state that they are uncomfortable with fanfiction, this will be taken down. 
> 
> for context: dream and george both live in england in this story, and a 'sixth form' is the two years of school that you attend after finishing high school, before you go to university
> 
> enjoy! :)

Autumn was Clay’s favourite time of year.

Maybe it was the way the leaves decorated the treetops in such a range of beautiful reds and golden oranges, and how they floated slowly to the ground when the chill wind brushed through them, leaving the footpaths coated in a layer of crisp orange. Or perhaps it was how the days grew steadily shorter, and by the end of November, one could sit outside and watch the sun gradually disappear over the horizon, and watch as it gave way to a sky dotted with millions of stars, all without having to stay outside past 6pm. 

Perhaps it was one of those reasons, or it could just be that autumn was when he first met George. 

***

It had been one of those days where the roads and pavements had been covered in a thin layer of frost, and the British air was wintry, but the cold wasn’t piercing enough yet to numb your skin. Still, Clay had donned a thick coat over his black turtleneck sweater before leaving his apartment, ensuring that his house keys, cigarettes and signature lime green lighter were all stowed safely in his pocket. He also slipped on a pair of black fingerless gloves, but they weren’t to help with the cold, they were simply for style.

The gentle breeze wove through his blonde curls as he made his way out of the sixth form building after a day’s worth of classes, making his hair even messier than it had been previously - if that was possible. Fallen leaves crunched beneath his boots as he tread the familiar path to his spot in the local park. 

Well, it wasn’t technically  _ his  _ spot, but Clay ventured to this specific bench every day after he finished with school, and no-one else seemed to know about it’s existence. But that suited him just fine. He preferred the quiet, anyway. 

It was situated in a secluded area of the park, away from the main paths, shrouded by trees whose branches hung low around it like curtains, protecting this space from the prying eyes of passing pedestrians. He often stayed there for hours on end. It was -  _ is  _ \- the perfect place for Clay: where he could sit, study and smoke, and finally bask in the peaceful solitude surrounding him. 

It was this particular Thursday however, that everything changed. 

All was normal, up until he reached the bench, and saw someone already sitting in it.

The stranger was about average height, skinny, with a clear ivory complexion, dark hair, and was entirely Clay’s type. In this moment, they also happened to look extremely pissed, and were fumbling over their jacket, a half-empty packet of cigarettes and a couple of textbooks strewn over the space beside him. 

Although Clay was heavily opposed to the idea of someone invading  _ his _ spot like this, for some reason, he decided against turning around and walking home. This guy - despite his obvious frustration - seemed interesting, and it had been a while since someone had caught his attention like this. The last time Clay had spoken to someone outside of school was a Subway employee to order a sandwich. 

So, against his better judgement, Clay took a step forward and said boldly, 

“Need a light?”

The man jerked his head up in surprise, but the shock in his face quickly changed into one of quizzical scrutiny. 

“Yes, actually, that would be great”. The stranger replied, curiously raising a brow and cocking his head slightly. He made to pick up his books, hastily stowing them away in the open backpack at his feet. Clay sat down beside him, pulling the neon lighter from his pocket and offering it out to the other man, who took it gratefully and expertly ignited the end of his cigarette.

He handed back the lighter wordlessly and took a long drag before saying suddenly, “Quick question, of all the colours to choose, why piss yellow?”

Clay spluttered with laughter, surprised by both the abruptness of the statement, and the fact that his lighter was most definitely  _ not  _ yellow.

“Quick question, are you colourblind?” Clay smiled playfully.

“It… it’s not yellow, is it?” the man sighed defeatedly. 

“No, it’s lime green.” Clay replied, still smiling, as he took out a cigarette of his own and lit it. He looked over it at the other man’s face, which was slightly flushed in embarrassment, dark eyes averted and most definitely not returning Clay’s gaze. Clay began to let his eyes wander over the stranger’s defined features - sharp jawline, chiseled nose decorated with a light dusting of freckles, full pink lips… - before a clear voice brought him back to reality.

“So, when did you move here?” 

“Hm?” Clay said hastily, snapping out of his trance.

“When did you move to the UK? Your accent doesn’t exactly hide the fact that you aren’t from around here.” He said, smirking. He had obviously noticed Clay’s staring, but oddly enough, he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Oh, I came here last year after I finished high school in Florida. Mom got a new job and I decided to move here with her.” 

“Oh, why? Surely you had  _ something _ to stay for back in the states,” he enquired, taking a sideways glance at Clay as well as another puff of his cigarette. 

Clay followed suit, also inhaling deeply, and sat in quiet thoughtfulness for a moment.

“To be honest, I don’t think I ever really did. Sure, I had a couple friends, but I never really miss them anymore. I've got used to being on my own." Clay had no idea why he was opening up to this random guy that had showed up at his bench, but something about it just felt  _ right _ . 

"I don't think anyone should have to get used to being alone," he said slowly, "everyone should have someone." 

They sat in silence, as they both considered the implications of the words that had been spoken. 

After a minute or two, Clay broke the silence by asking, "Well, do you have someone?"

"Ironically enough, I don't." he said with a wry smile, "I guess I'm like you, I've always preferred spending time with my own thoughts rather than listening to someone else's". 

"And… do you think that could ever change? Do you think you'd ever begin to enjoy someone else's company just as much as your own?" Clay said with a curious glance over at the stranger next to him.

"If I met the right person." He said softly.

Their eyes met, Clay's jade green irises looking deep into the other man's brown ones, and strangely enough, neither of them seemed to want to look away. Eventually though, they did, when a particularly cold gust of wind rushed across their faces, causing them both to shiver. 

A melodic chime sounded from somewhere in the man's jacket. He checked his phone and he groaned audibly, before swinging his bag onto his back and standing up to leave. Clay watched him go, admittedly slightly disappointed.

"Wait!" Clay called out, immediately regretting his decision. He didn't know why, but he needed to know if he'd see this mysterious stranger again.

A face turned back to him, one eyebrow raised in the silent question of ' _ what?' _ , although without a trace of annoyance. 

"I never caught your name." Clay muttered sheepishly. And that was when he heard that beautiful laughter for the first time. It rang out, a clear and utterly  _ gorgeous  _ sound, and Clay knew that he would do anything just to hear it again.

"I don’t remember throwing it," he said with a grin.

Clay snorted involuntarily, “Well maybe you should.”

“It’s George,” George said, still smiling widely, as he disappeared through the branches. 

They met there again the next day. And the day after that. 

***

It had been a whole year since that fateful day at the park, and physically, Clay hadn't changed much. His wavy, dirty blonde hair was still as messy as ever, and his ears were still adorned with an impressive array of piercings. The only visible change was a simple black tattoo at the base of his neck, that read '404' in neat lettering. 

It was a Saturday, so there were no classes for him to attend, yet he still got up early to the sound of his alarm, and slipped on that same black velvet turtleneck that he had been wearing all those months ago. He'd come to wear it so much now that it was beginning to fall apart at the seams. George always loved when he wore it though, so he tried to do so as much as possible. 

He slipped on his boots, and checked that he had his house keys and cigarettes tucked safely into his coat pocket. He accidentally left his green lighter at George's apartment yesterday, but Clay knew that the latter wouldn't forget to bring it with him. He never did.

Clay's phone lit up, and so did he, as George's name was displayed across the screen. He had come to love the bright feeling he got whenever George called him. With a smile on his face and no hesitation, Clay answered up the call.

"Clay, baby, where are you?" George whined playfully, a hint of worry in his tone. 

Clay's breath hitched at the word  _ 'baby _ ', and he hoped in vain that it had been quiet enough for his phone to not pick up. George knew what those kinds of pet names did to him, and used them specifically for that reason. 

"Fuck, I'm sorry Georgie, I didn't see the time. I'm just leaving my place now, I'll be there in 10." Clay bit his lip nervously, he hated keeping the Brit waiting. He locked his door behind him and stepped outside into the cool autumnal air. 

It was George's turn to blush silently at the nickname. Despite the fact that the pair had already confessed their attraction to one another several months back, little things like that still managed to set George off. He felt that no matter how many times they kissed, or however many nights they spent in each other’s company, he would still go red when Clay caressed his face or even intertwined their fingers on the bench between them. 

"It's fine, honestly. Anyway, I have your lighter, I don't even need to wait for you today." George replied, trying to act as though the other's words had no effect on him. 

"You didn't-" Clay started, but was cut off.

"Of course I didn't forget, do you really think so low of me?" George asked, and Clay could practically hear his eye roll. He began walking briskly down the street, not forgetting to admire the myriad of colours scattered through the treetops above him. 

He may have fallen in love, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still take the time to appreciate the natural beauty surrounding him. Well, not unless he was with George anyway. Clay always found it difficult to look at anything apart from George when he was with him, which was pretty much all the time. Neither of them seemed to need anyone else anymore, except for each other, and so spent nearly all of their waking hours together. 

Clay soon reached the bench, and couldn’t stop the smile breaking over his face as he reached the bench and saw George already sitting there, a cigarette already lit and positioned between his lips. 

It was still very early morning, so the features of his lover's face were only partially illuminated in the half-light, yet Clay still couldn't describe him as anything short of breathtaking. He had come to know the shapes of George's face extremely well - having caressed and touched him on countless occasions - and yet this man's ethereal beauty never ceased to amaze him. Clay’s eyes wandered down over his neck, and his gaze came to rest upon the small smile tattoo at the base of it. 

"You do this almost every time we come here. I'd have thought you'd have gotten used to the view by now." George remarked flirtatiously, staring back at Clay with the same intensity. He leaned forward to rest his chin on his palm, playful smile still visible through the fingers that were partially obscuring his mouth. 

Clay snapped himself from his trance, although still keeping his eyes trained on the gorgeous man sat so casually on the simple park bench in front of him. 

"What can I say, you're just so-" 

"Beautiful, I know. Can we move on?" George quipped with an exaggerated sigh, as if the compliments bored him. 

Clay let out a soft wheeze of a laugh as he placed himself on the bench, right beside George, and held out his hand to take the cigarette from him. George passed it over willingly, and Clay sighed as he placed it between his own lips and inhaled deeply before passing it back. 

George ran a hand lazily through his hair, and Clay’s eyes followed the movement hungrily. Everything he did just seemed so precise, perfectly calculated so as to appear effortlessly captivating. Clay would have been infinitely jealous of George’s otherworldly grace, if it wasn’t for the fact that George was  _ his _ .

A soft rush of wind whistled through the leaves, causing George to shiver involuntarily. He subconsciously shifted closer to Clay, closing the already minuscule gap between their bodies. Their legs pressed together, and George, basking in the newfound warmth that blossomed from their contact, moved his hand slowly from his lap to place it cautiously on Clay's chest. 

"Why so nervous, Georgie?," Clay murmured softly, reaching out a hand of his own to cup George's cheek. He brushed his thumb over the corner of the other's mouth, causing the lips to part in surprise beneath his fingertips. The lit cigarette hung loosely still in George's mouth, but Clay wasted no time in plucking it from where it rested and tossing it carelessly to the side. 

"Clay, what-" George started, obviously confused, but was cut off by the other man planting a firm but loving kiss onto his lips. It tasted like tobacco and the black coffee that George had obviously drunk on his way here. Two sugars, no milk. Which Clay simply just  _ knew _ because George never ordered anything else.

The sun began to edge over the distant horizon, smiling over the picturesque scenery. The stars were barely visible anymore - not that either of them were looking at them in the first place. 

Neither men wanted the moment to end, and so it didn’t. They stayed there for a long while, locked in an embrace. 

Occasionally, one of them would break away and instead choose to press their lips somewhere else. A neck, a collarbone. 

Their hands would also sometimes move unconsciously across each other's bodies. Up the front of a shirt, toying with the buckle of a belt. 

Sometimes, they travelled away from their spot, and back to an apartment. On these days, their usual smoke was replaced by steam; radiating from their exposed bodies in the enclosed space, opposed to their usual quiet in the outdoors that was broken only by the click of a neon green lighter. 

Despite the awful state of the world and their own lives, they found solace in every second that they spent together. Whether it was intimate kisses and touches, or simply just sharing cigarettes under the stars, they both felt as though they had finally found their home. 

It was bizarre for them to think that little over a year ago they were strangers, because they had come to depend on one another so much. Before that first fateful day in the park, it was as though they were both missing a part of themselves without even realising that they were incomplete. And then their paths crossed at last, intertwining their souls and filling up the gaps in their hearts that they didn’t even notice prior to that moment. To separate them now would break them both. So the only option they had was to stay together for eternity, which suited Clay and George perfectly fine. That was what they wanted, anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!
> 
> this fic was basically me just channelling how much i adore this song into a dnf oneshot, so i hope you enjoyed.
> 
> any comments/criticisms are always very much appreciated, seeing as this is only my third time actually writing a fic and i'm always looking to improve :)


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